9

Cara
The shadiest car rental place in the world gets the eighth credit card to work and lets me drive off in a thirty-year-old Nissan Altima that jolts and stutters as I cruise away from Chicago.
I’m thinking about Eros the whole way.
I should have my future at the top of my mind-I still don’t know where I’m going or if I’ll sleep in a warm bed or in the back seat of this dumpy car-and my stomach’s beginning to rumble. Fortunately, I stole food from the Drake’s complimentary breakfast table, but that won’t last forever.
I still can’t get Eros out of my mind.
It’s not just the sex. I mean, yeah, it’s the sex. That was really good sex. But it’s also the way he looked at me, and spoke to me, and touched my skin, and later, the way he gave me his card even though I went full-on crazy on him with all that cash and definitely ruined whatever deal he was setting up with those union guys.
He should’ve killed me. If I blew a meeting as big and as important as he said, a lesser man would’ve hurt me over it. Christopher would’ve strangled me, that’s for sure.
Instead, he gave me his card.
He was pissed and he made a few threats, but in the end, he offered to help me even more.
I don’t understand why.
I don’t get Eros at all.
But I’m thinking about him the whole way, right up until the disaster hits. There’s an enormous bang like an explosion and suddenly the car’s rumbling wildly.
I veer left, right, left, and finally manage to pull onto the shoulder, about an hour outside of the city.
I stand there, staring at the mess, and I really regret getting rid of all that cash.
The tire’s totally shredded. I try not to cry, but tears roll down my face anyway. How the hell is this happening to me, now of all times? I was so close to getting away, and a freaking flat tire is ruining this for me.
I pull myself together. No use screaming and throwing a tantrum. I can handle this like I handled everything else so far.
“Fucking fuck,” I say, pop the trunk, and stare at the space where the spare usually goes. “Oh my god. You have to be fucking kidding me! Just fucking great.” I watch cars speed past, kicking up dirt and dust, leaving exhaust fumes in my throat.
I nearly made it out.
Almost, but not quite.
I call the cheapest-looking tow truck company I can find on Google and wait for them to show up. I keep taking out Eros’s card and typing in his number, but I keep closing the app before making the call.
I made my decision. I won’t go crawling back to him so soon.
“Yep, that’s a flat,” the tow guy says when he arrives, frowning at the blown-apart rubber, scratching at his bald scalp. “Where’s the spare?”
“Missing,” I say. “It’s a rental.”
“Ah, that’s the problem, those cheap places cut corners.” He clucks his tongue at me like I’m some stupid teenager. “All right, I can give you a ride back to their place if you want.”
“How much will it cost?”
He studies me and licks his teeth like he’s trying to decide how much he can extract. “Three hundred,” he says.
And I feel like I might be sick. “I can’t pay that much.”
“Tell you what. I’ll give you a break and do two-fifty. That or I can take it to an impound lot?”
I groan and rub my face with my hands, but what other choice do I have? I can’t keep this car, and I can’t afford to fix it, and I don’t know where else to go.
Reluctantly, I agree to pay him even though I have no clue how I’m going to, get in the truck, and we drive back into the city.
————–
The guy at the rental place leans on the counter. “Back already?” he asks, showing his teeth, while the tow guy gets the Altima down off the bed.
“I got a flat and there’s no spare.”
“Ah, that’s a shame.” Rental Guy doesn’t seem surprised, and some ugly part of me wonders if that tire was going to explode like that no matter what. He’s a skinny, slimy dickhead in a shredded Harley tee. “Well, you’ll have to pay to get the tire repaired or replaced and-”
“Hold on,” I say, holding up my hands. “Pay for what now? I can’t pay for anything.”
He points at my pocket. “You’ve got them cards.”
“I don’t know if they’ll work this time. There’s no way I’m paying for a flat tire, especially when you’re too cheap to have a spare.”
He shrugs and taps at his computer. “It’s in the agreement you signed. You can refuse to pay, but I’ll have to call the police and let them sort it out if you want. Or you can run the cards and see what happens.”
I stand in the rundown, water-stained room and my hands ball into fists. It’s happening again, the anger’s getting the better of me, and I want to pound the smug rental guy in the face until his nose is ground meat.
I take a step toward him.
I should keep my mouth shut-but, like always, I don’t.
“Listen to me, you disgusting little twerp, I’m not going to pay your extortion no matter what you do and no matter how many freaking credit cards I have in my pocket. You’re a cheap little asshole, and I could’ve gottenkilledon the side of the road because of your piece-of-shit car, and you want me to pay you more? You can go to hell.”
Rental Guy’s face falls. “Okay, police it is.”
“Wait,” I say, but he’s already calling.
And I am screwed.
Again.
All because I can’t keep my mouth closed.
I’m beginning to deeply regret that wholeembracing the ‘mouthy bitch’thing.
He ignores me as he talks with the dispatcher. I walk away, shoving out through the door. “Hey,” he calls after me. “You better not run off!”
I ignore it, thinking about all the different ways I could escape. Run down the street and beg the first person I see to come to my rescue. Hop on a bus and hope I don’t have to pay the fair. Collapse at the feet of the cops and plead my case. Maybe they’d ever take pity on me-this rental car place is clearly some kind of scam.
“All right now, we’re all set,” the tow guy says, coming over with a clipboard. “Like I said, that’ll be two-fifty, plus the unloading fee, so we’re looking at closer to three twenty-five-”
I want to scream.
More money that I don’t have.
The tow guy’s talking to me and the Rental Twerp stands in the doorway glaring with his hands on his hips, and I’m on the edge of panic, trying not to lose my freaking mind, with both of them sniping at me and at each other, and there’s no escaping this.
I’m screwed.
Christopher’s going to catch me.
Except I know there’s one way out, and it’s sitting in my pocket.
I hold Eros’s card up to the sky, squinting at the number. For the fiftieth time today, I type it into my phone and my thumb hovers over the call button.
What happens if I ask him for help?
I’m at rock bottom-again, as it turns out-and I feel insanely pathetic. I can’t even drive out of the city without screwing it up.
I’m crawling back to Eros only a few hours after he said he’d help, for a price.
Am I prepared to stay here, in Chicago, and accept his offer? A job and a fresh start. I’ve never had a job before-my parents never let me work, and Christopher laughed when I suggested it. The idea of making a fair wage, of affording my own apartment, buying my own groceries, having my own life-it’s so tempting it hurts.
But how can I stay in Chicago when Christopher is here?
Can I really trust Eros when he says I’ll be safe?
It’s stupid not to keep going. I got this far and I can go further. I should walk back in that little rental shop, hand over the cards, and offer to bribe the guy so he forgets my little tirade. I can hope the cards keep on working and pay the tow guy whatever he wants. I can get out of this, hit the road, and drive until tomorrow-
Instead, I hit call.
It rings for a few seconds and disappointment tightens around my heart until I hear his voice.
“Hello, Cara.”
I take a sharp breath. “How’d you know it was me?”
“Not many people have this number. Did you think about my offer some more?”
I close my eyes and steady myself. “I did.”
“And?”
“I want a job.”
“Good. Where are you?”
“I’m at a rental car place.” I look over and spot a police cruiser heading toward me, crunching over the gravel in the street. Rental Twerp’s looking stupidly smug, and the tow guy’s starting to realize he’s not getting paid anytime soon. “Also, I’m about to get arrested.”